


Reindeer Games

by wowbright



Series: Glee Season 5 episode reactions [9]
Category: Glee
Genre: Anal Sex, Animal Play, Christmas, Christmas Smut, Consensual Kink, Episode Fix-it, Episode: s05e08 Previously Unaired Christmas, Fix-It, Light BDSM, M/M, Oral Sex, Puns & Word Play, Rimming, role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 02:45:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5147381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wowbright/pseuds/wowbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the<a href="http://glee-kink-meme.livejournal.com/48822.html?thread=61938358#t61938358"> gkm prompt</a> “Instead of saying no, Kurt agrees to roleplay as Rudolph to Cody’s Santa.” Go to the link to read the full prompt. <strong>This is a</strong><strong> fix-it fic for Kurt’s storyline in 5.08, “A Previously Unaired Christmas.”</strong> I wanted Kurt to have awesome, indulgent, strings-free sex—something that would build him up rather than tear him down. So everything in here in consensual, no one is drunk or gets drugged, and nothing gets stolen from the loft. And Cody (aka Sexy Claus) is a guy who enjoys dicking people, not dicking people over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reindeer Games

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to chiasmuslovesme,likearumchocolatesouffle, and nacho for betaing, and to everyone who encouraged me on the GKM!

They’ve been making out through most of Perry Como’s  _Christmas Album_ when Cody looks up, his silly Santa cap falling askew so that the snowball at its tip dangles in front of his forehead. “Do you want to play a little game?”

It’s hard to process the words, what with most of the oxygen in Kurt’s body currently serving his dick. Kurt repeats them a couple times in his head before he understands them enough to respond. He bucks his cock up against the long line of Cody’s hardness and murmurs, “We’re not already playing a game?”

Cody lets out a grunt of pleasure, rubs himself slowly against Kurt. “I was thinking about costumes.”

“Costumes? I’m in— _oh_ ,” Kurt moans. It’s difficult to stay on topic when a half-naked Sexy Claus is rubbing against him through the fabric of their pants and his bare chest is tantalizingly close to Kurt’s mouth.

Kurt musters his words. “I’m intrigued. But you’re already in costume.” He grabs at the red cloth covering Cody’s ass to make his point.

“But you’re not,” Cody says. “I thought it might be nice to dress you up like Rudolph and tie you to my sleigh.“

As soon as the words leave Cody’s lips, Kurt starts to laugh. Or, at least, he tries to. But the sound that leaves his mouth sounds more like a gasp — the kind he lets out sometimes when he’s been hard for hours and  _finally_  the girls leave the loft so he can start fingering himself without worries of Santana pulling back the curtain to his room.

"You like that idea?” Cody says. He’s right in front of Kurt, his bare chest and neck tantalizingly close to Kurt’s mouth, his silly Santa cap falling askew so that the snowball at its tip dangles in front of his forehead.

Kurt is blindsided by the overwhelming urge to say  _yes._ But before he can form the word, he and Cody are interrupted by loud, squawking laughter from the living room, and then Santana shouting over the music, ”I’m definitely not into romance with guys, but I’d still rub myself all over Sexy Claus’s chest.”

“Maybe we could have a foursome!” Rachel responds in a stage whisper. “I  _totally_  want to see Kurt’s hula-hoop.”

Santana snickers. “He’d never let you see his hula-hoop! He probably hasn’t even let  _Blaine_  see his hula-hoop. That prudish Queen of England is going to be a butt-virgin until the day he dies.”

Kurt’s face burns red. He’s no prude. After all, he’s been dry humping a virtual stranger on his desk for the past half hour.

Cody notices Kurt’s distraction, kisses him up from his jaw to his ear. Tension that Kurt didn’t know was there melts from his body. Cody sucks on his earlobe and whispers, “I’d also like to see your hula-hoop.”

“Would you, now?” Kurt says, going for sultry but mostly just sounding horny.

Cody stands back, giving Kurt an appraising look. “Yeah. I’d like to see you on all fours like Rudolph, your ass high up in the air and on display for me.”

Kurt swallows hard, both incredibly turned on and slightly terrified by the fact that he’s turned on. In an effort to step back from his own desire, he studies Cody with a critical eye.

Objectively speaking, Cody looks ridiculous in his Santa hat and oversized red pants. He’d be so much hotter in tight jeans, his head bare and his hair swooped up with mousse.

But at the end of the day, Kurt is not objective. He doesn’t want Cody in tight jeans. He wants him dressed as a comically sexy Santa Claus.

And Kurt wants to be ridiculous, too. He has always taken everything way too seriously.

Kurt reaches up to straighten Cody’s cap, moves the snowball back toward Cody’s ear. He takes a deep breath and gulps back his own giddy nerves. “Tie me to your sleigh, Santa.”

* * *

They agree on a safe word. It’s “poinsettia.”

* * *

With all the bondage gear Kurt keeps as part of his wardrobe, one might think he’s used some of it for sex before now. But he never has — at least not on himself. Blaine was always the one who was more vocal about wanting to be tied up and taken, so that’s how it worked between them.

So this … this is new. The straps of his leather halter criss-crossing Kurt’s chest, chafing against his nipples. The leather belt around his waist, holding a pouffy white tail secure above his ass. The rope pulled through the rings at the back of the halter, just above his shoulder blades. Cody gives the rope a sharp tug and Kurt rears off of his hands — or hooves, he supposes, clad as they are in brown ankle socks to better emulate the extremities of a reindeer.

“Good boy, Rudolph,” Cody says from behind Kurt. “I see it won’t take long to train you.”

Kurt blushes from the praise. It’s a reaction that surprises him. Usually, Kurt’s the one who wants to be in control, to tell other people what to do and how the world works. But here he is, willingly on his knees, waiting patiently to be bossed around and used like a beast of labor.

 _Used._ Kurt’s cock stiffens at the thought of that word. Yes, that’s what he wants. He wants to be used, wants someone else to be in control and tell him what to do and be at the mercy of their desires. He wants, for just a few hours, to take a break from all the fighting he has to do for himself every day.

Cody lets the tension on the ropes slacken, and Kurt lowers himself back on all fours onto the mattress. He dares a glimpse at the full-length mirror at the foot of the bed. He can see both of them, and there’s this odd welling of emotion in Kurt’s chest — panic and laughter and relief and joy all rolled into one.

Kurt looks ridiculous. He’s naked except for the leather straps around his body and the socks on his hooves. He is made more deer-like by a pair of felt antlers on top of his head and black false eyelashes that make him doe-eyed. His red nose is courtesy of the Scarlet Hussy lipstick he snatched from Santana’s bathroom shelf. And his cock … Kurt can see it hanging heavy and swollen beneath his body like the phallus of an overexcited horse.

Cody is kneeling behind Kurt in his pants and suspenders and silly Santa hat. Part of Kurt wants Cody to take everything off, wants to drink every bit of Cody’s masculine thighs and cock and ass with his eyes and mouth and hands. But another part of Kurt — the part that’s winning at the moment — wants Cody to keep the costume on as a constant reminder of who in this room is master, and who is servant.

Cody shifts behind Kurt, standing up on the mattress and moving both ends of the reins into his left hand. With his right hand, he lifts the riding crop he found in Kurt’s wardrobe, the one that Kurt nodded at with a sharp blush when Cody asked if he could use it, and drags the tip of it slowly up Kurt’s crack. “Spread your rear legs, Rudolph.”

Kurt hesitates. What exactly is Santa planning to do with that riding crop?

Cody senses the hesitation and snaps the crop lightly against the soft mound of Kurt’s right ass cheek. Kurt winces out a soft “Fuck” as more blood rushes to his dick.

“Too hard?” Cody asks.

“No, Santa,” Kurt says. “I — I need it. I need you to show me what to do.”

Kurt sees Cody smile in the mirror. “Good boy, Rudolph. Now spread your legs.”

Kurt shifts his knees just a few inches apart. He knows if he were being good, he’d spread them much farther, but he wants to test Cody. He wants to see if Cody will use that riding crop on him again.

Cody tugs on the reins. “Rudolph.” His voice is stern. “More.”

Kurt stays still.

“I see I spoke too soon when I called you a good boy,” Cody says with a hint of amusement in his voice. “You’re as stubborn as a mule. Should I trade you in for a mule?”

Kurt shakes his head.

“Are you going to spread your legs for me then, Rudolph?”

“I want to,” Kurt says breathlessly. “But I need more … training. I need … I need discipline, Santa. I’ve spent too much time playing my own reindeer games.”

A broad smile breaks across Cody’s face. “I’ll show you how to be good, Rudolph.”

_* * *_

The swats of the riding crop are light, leaving only the slightest sting in their wake. Still Kurt curses with each one—from the thrill of it, the excitement and terror of doing something that, up until now, has seemed forbidden to him.

“You have a foul mouth, Rudolph. Do I need to put a bit in it?”

Kurt’s eyes go wide. “Oh, no, Santa. Anything but that!” As he speaks, his head nods vigorously with want.

Cody sighs dramatically. “I’m sorry, Rudolph, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to. We wouldn’t want you to accidentally start cursing when I deliver the toys to the very good girls and boys. It would destroy the innocence of the holiday, don’t you think?”

Cody gets down from the bed and picks a leather necktie from the top of Kurt’s dresser. He walks back over to Kurt, standing beside him, his crotch close to Kurt’s face. The outline of Cody’s cock is readily visible through the soft red fabric of his pants. It’s  _huge_ , Kurt suddenly realizes. Absolutely ginormous, much bigger than his own or Blaine’s cock or even Kurt’s ample dildo. Kurt’s asshole flutters with desire and not a bit of trepidation, and Kurt finds himself unable to resist nuzzling the large, smooth cock through the fabric.

“Rudolph!” Cody says startled. “Rudolph, that’s not appropriate. You’re a reindeer and I’m a … a … a …” Cody’s head lolls back as Kurt opens his mouth and sucks in the thick head of Cody’s fabric-covered cock. “Oh, Rudolph. Mrs. Claus doesn’t do that … Oh,  _god_.”

The fabric is scratchy against Kurt’s teeth, and it tastes a little like laundry detergent, but Kurt doesn’t care. Everything about taking a dick into his mouth this way is delicious.

Cody pushes his hips forward and more of his fabric-covered cock enters Kurt’s mouth. It’s so big and broad, pushing along the roof of Kurt’s mouth and back toward his throat. “Oh, Rudolph, your  _mouth._  I had no idea –  _oh!_ ”

And suddenly Cody pulls back and leans down, tonguing Kurt’s mouth in a dirty, dirty kiss. “Oh, Rudolph, you are a very, very bad boy. I am going to have to punish you.”

Kurt fakes a lip quiver. “Please be gentle with me, Santa.”

Cody takes the leather tie and pulls it gently across Kurt’s mouth. Kurt lets his lips fall open so Cody can pull the thick leather back between his teeth. Kurt bites down on it and Cody ties the loose ends of the tie at the back of Kurt’s head. There’s still enough slack that Kurt could talk if he wants to, and can definitely pronounce the safe word, but just in case, Cody instructs Kurt to tap his elbow if he has trouble speaking and wants the game to stop.

Kurt can’t imagine wanting the game to stop, though, especially not now as Cody kneels behind him, cloth-covered cock lined up just inches behind Kurt’s cleft, and brings the riding crop down once, twice, three times more on Kurt’s ass cheek.

Kurt’s running on pheromones and adrenaline, and with every soft lash of the leather against his skin, he bites down on the leather to keep from cursing, its sharp, earthy taste flooding his mouth. Kurt’s cock twitches and his asshole, hidden in its cleft, quivers with want.

Bottoming is only a recent interest of Kurt's—maybe because that’s what almost everyone assumed he liked. So he didn’t like it, just to prove them wrong. But the more he fucked Blaine, the more curious Kurt got about it. When he masturbated, he began to finger himself with copious amounts of lube until he could take two, three, four fingers. He was going to ask Blaine to switch up this fall when Blaine came to New York but then — well. Kurt shouldn’t think about that right now.

A sharp snap to Kurt’s left cheek. “Rudolph,” Cody says. “You’re not focusing. Do I need to find a new way to get your attention?”

Kurt thrusts his ass back toward Cody’s cock, grazing his cleft along its length. “Punish me, Santa,” he mutters seductively around the leather in his mouth.

But Cody doesn’t give him another swat. Instead, Cody sets the crop down on the floor and orders Kurt to spread his legs. Kurt complies, his stomach fluttering in anticipation—of what, Kurt’s not sure. Will he get a spanking? (The thought makes more blood rush to Kurt’s dick.)  Will Santa tell Rudolph to undress him with his teeth?  Will Rudolph have to stay in his stable while Santa goes off and plays with the reindeers Rachel and Santana in the living room? Or will Kurt’s punishment actually be a reward: Cody’s thick cock sliding into Kurt’s hungry, virgin ass?

He watches Cody in the mirror, expecting him to reach toward the nightstand for lube. But  Cody doesn’t move from his position behind Kurt.  He looks frozen in either shock or awe— his mouth falling open, his eyes unblinking and completely focused on Kurt’s exposed ass.

Kurt’s face goes hot. Cody’s stare is so unrelenting that Kurt can feel it like touch against the sensitive skin of his rim.  He has the urge to close his legs together. He’s so vulnerable, his most guarded parts out in the open. How much hair is down there? He can’t remember. He hasn’t been paying much attention to manscaping since his breakup with Blaine.

But Kurt can’t hide—Cody’s got one hand on each of Kurt’s cheeks, and as he stares he pushes them a little wider, exposing more of Kurt’s ass to the air.

Kurt tries to bury his face in the sheets, but Cody pulls back on the reins to keep him upright. “Rudolph,” Cody says, his tone unreadable. He drags his thumbs softly along the sides of Kurt’s hole.

Kurt squeezes his eyes tightly, feels his hole going tight from the nervousness, too. He clenches his teeth harder against the bit so that he doesn’t curse out loud for his lack of foresight in grooming.

Cody speaks again, “Jiminy Christmas, Rudolph. You have the most gorgeous asshole I’ve ever seen — pretty as a sugarplum. I just want to lift your tail and —” Kurt lets his eyes sneak open, but before he can fully register what’s happening, Cody flips Kurt’s tail out of the way and dives face-first toward Kurt’s cleft, licking a long stripe up it.

Kurt’s eyes jolt wide open. He’s never — Blaine never —  _Oh my god there’s a tongue in my ass._

Well, not technically  _in_  Kurt’s ass, but soothing soft, wet circles around his puckered hole. Kurt showered earlier this evening, right after he spilled eggnog all over the front of his shirt at the end of their Chipmunks Christmas sing-along, and of course he soaped everywhere thoroughly just in case he might have the chance to get lucky with Sexy Santa Claus, but still — he was  _not_  expecting this. He can’t possibly taste good down there, probably all peppermint soap and musk and —

Cody moans hungrily as he strokes the tip of his soft wet tongue round and round the rim of Kurt’s asshole and Kurt —  _Oh god, this is fucking amazing_  he thinks. But he says nothing, just bites down harder against the bit in his mouth and groans with need.

Cody kisses up from Kurt’s asshole to his tailbone, and Kurt tries not to whimper. He never knew how much he needed a tongue down there. “You taste like salted peppermint candy,” Cody mutters against his spine. “I could eat you all night.”

Cody drags his tongue back down to Kurt’s hole, soaking him wet with saliva. But the hottest part of all are the noises Cody makes as he does it, like he’s the one getting the good end of the deal. Cody buries his face in Kurt’s crack and moves his lips and tongue voraciously, like a man who hasn’t had a meal in days.

Kurt loses all shame. He pushes back on his hands and knees, pressing his hole tighter against Cody’s tongue. His asshole is quivering, shaking, slowly unfurling like the petals of a Christmas rose. Kurt has been reduced to nothing but desire and bestial want. He wants Cody’s tongue and he wants his huge cock opening him up, filling him, dragging in and out and fucking him and taking control. Kurt wants Cody to play his body like an instrument, use it until it’s worn out.

 _Fuck me_ , Kurt wants to say. And he could say it, despite the bit in his mouth. It’s loose enough that his tongue and lips could still form the words.

But Kurt doesn’t say a thing. Tonight, he’s not in charge. He’s Santa’s beast of burden, a Christmas plaything. Cody’s in charge. Kurt’s nipples harden at the thought.

And what Cody seems to want is to eat Kurt’s ass until Kurt collapses backward, no longer able to hold himself up on his wobbly hands and knees, and then to feast on him some more until Kurt’s sobbing with pleasure and need into the blankets and rutting his cock against the mattress. And Cody keeps on, licking and licking, the tip of his tongue loosening Kurt’s hole better than fingers ever could, as he palms his hand softly over Kurt’s balls and then up toward his cock.

That’s the last straw — the squeeze of Cody’s hand around Kurt’s cock as he French kisses Kurt’s hole. Kurt whites out as he comes, clenching the bit to keep from waking up all of Brooklyn with his cries. He comes and comes, the orgasm surging from his balls onto the bedspread below, and the screen behind his closed eyes shifts from white to dancing spots of color as his orgasm peaks and then ebbs. Through the pulsing of blood in his ears, he hears a female voice shout, “Get it, Kurt!” from the living room.

But everything’s too wonderful to care.

Kurt goes limp against the bed, feels the mattress shift as Cody settles beside him, his Santa hat miraculously still in place on his head. (Kurt should ask Cody later about what brand of bobby pins he uses.) Cody traces a finger along the leather halter straps that wrap under Kurt’s arms, kisses Kurt’s forehead with lips still damp from saliva as he unties the bit from around Kurt’s mouth. “You’ve been a very good boy this year, Rudolph. Ask Santa for anything you want.” Cody sets the bit on the floor next to the bed.

Kurt smiles as he turns on his side to face Cody. He notices for the first time that Cody’s eyes are blue, like the ice of the North Pole on a clear day.

Kurt reaches down to feel if Cody’s come yet. He’s relieved to find Cody’s erection as large and enticing as ever. He curls his fingers around Cody’s thickness. “I want Santa to give me his giant cock for Christmas,” he says with a smirk.

Cody smiles slyly. “That can be arranged.”

“And I want …” Kurt stops himself mid-sentence, wondering if he’s being too greedy, if maybe good reindeers only ask for one Christmas present each year. But his ass isn’t the only thing that needs filling tonight – his mouth is aching with want, too, watering as Kurt presses his hoof more firmly against Santa’s erection. He wants to taste it without the tent of polyester over it, wants –

Amusement turns up the corners of Cody’s eyes. He sways his hips slightly, running the broad underside of his cock against Kurt’s hoof and letting out a small huff of breath that is both laughter and groan. “What else do you want, Rudolph? You’re at the top of my good list this Christmas. Santa will give you everything you need.”

Kurt feels heat spreading from his cheeks down to his chest. The praise and the promise are so overwhelming that he bites his bottom lip and almost turns his face into the covers – but then he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and remembers that he doesn’t need to hide. He’s not Kurt right now, he’s Rudolph — with a bright red nose and fluttering false eyelashes as thick and dark as a deer’s, the felt-antler headband that has only gone slightly askew from all the bedroom commotion, the dark leather harness wrapped around his torso, and his brown, fingerless hooves.

Kurt clears his throat. “It’s been a while, Santa, since I’ve tasted a salt lick.”

“A salt lick?” Confusion flickers across Cody’s face, but Kurt makes sure it doesn’t last for long. He raises himself on all fours and backs up on the bed until his snout is at Cody’s waistband. He roots over Cody’s cock eagerly, using his teeth to tug at the fabric as he hooks his clumsy hooves under the front of Cody’s suspenders and pulls downward. If he had fingers, he could easily undo the clasps and pull down Cody’s pants, but this is ten times more arousing. Already, Kurt feels his own cock start to grow stiff again.

“Oh,  _that_  salt lick,” Cody says breathily. “Here, let Santa—oh god—let Santa help you.” Cody undoes his fly and unclasps one of the suspender buckles. With a quick tug of teeth and hoof, Kurt finally pulls back the flaps of Cody’s zipper to reveal a gorgeous, naked cock curving against his flat abdomen, the tip of it glistening with precome.

Kurt devours it. He doesn’t try to finesse anything, just licks sloppily and relentlessly at the delicious mix of salt and tang. He swallows Cody’s precome up greedily, taking more of Cody into his mouth.

“R-Rrrrudolph,” Cody says with a growl. “If all the good girls and boys knew what I was doing with the herd—” He cuts off with a gasp.

Kurt looks up, licking a long wet stripe up the underside of Cody’s cock as he surveys the man’s perfect pecs and long neck, his thrown back head and masculine jaw. “They’ve got to know he’s jolly for a reason.” He laps at Cody’s crown with the tip of his tongue. “Rudolph likes it when Santa’s jolly.”

“Santa is so fucking jolly,” Cody groans.

The sound sends a tingling down Kurt’s spine and right into his asshole. He’s not sure how much more of this he’s going to be able to take before he’s begging to be filled. He wishes there were two Codys, one to fuck his mouth and the other to fuck his ass, to fill him everywhere he needs to be filled.

It’s a delicious thought, unexpected and dirty, filthier than anything Kurt ever saw in the pornos he tried to watch his junior year of high school. He sucks the tip of Cody’s cock into his mouth and moans loudly, feeling the vibration of it all the way down to his toes—and Cody clearly feels the vibration, too, thrusting deeper into Kurt’s mouth and gasping, “Oh, Rudolph, wanna fuck your mouth.”

Kurt pops off only long enough to whisper, “Then do it, Santa. Make me your Christmas toy.”

In the wink of an eye, Cody swings off the bed, the heels of his leather boots thunking against the wood floor as he stands at the edge of the bed and turns to face Kurt. Cody’s red trousers are held up around his hips by a single suspender strap, the waistband snugging softly under Cody’s balls and cock; the drape of the fabric makes Kurt think of wrapping paper that’s been pulled back to reveal the gift inside.

And what a gift it is. Kurt’s squinted at enough porn to know that when most guys are standing around with a hard-on, it points straight forward or a little up like his own and Blaine’s do; but Cody’s cock points slightly downward, its weight and girth preventing it from rising any higher.

“This is the best Christmas present ever.” Kurt crawls to the edge of the mattress and takes Cody into his mouth.

Cody responds with a soft moan and a hand around the base of Kurt’s antler, giving it just the slightest tug to coax Kurt farther over his cock.

Kurt hardly needs coaxing. He’s starving for it, wants to take it in and swallow it deep. He wants Cody to fill him with it, and  _now_. He pulls off long enough to whisper, “C'mon, Santa, grab my antlers and give it to me.”

Those turn out to be the magic words.

Cody winds his hand deep in the hair around the base of Kurt’s antler and slides forward. Kurt’s jaw instinctually relaxes and Cody slides deeper, the head of his cock dragging down the center of Kurt’s tongue until it’s almost at the root. It’s been a long time since Kurt’s had any practice, but the control he has over his gag reflex is still impeccable; he takes a deep breath and the muscles of his neck and throat relax, and Cody lets out a breathy, “Hohoho— _oh!_ ” as the head of his cock slides into Kurt’s throat.

As relaxed as he is, Kurt still doesn’t have all of Cody’s cock in his mouth. There’s so much to take—Kurt’s nose is at least an inch from Cody’s soft thatch of pubic hair. Kurt wants to wrap his fingers around Cody’s root and help him fuck deeper—but he can’t. He’s a reindeer; he has hooves, not hands. Kurt can’t grab or guide or control, and usually that would annoy him at best and infuriate him at worst, but here, in this situation—

A frisson of heat shoots down Kurt’s spine to his asshole. Kurt surrenders to it, spreading his legs and swaying his rump up into the air with each thrust of Cody’s cock.

Kurt’s lost in the rhythm when he feels it—the fingers from Cody’s free hand reaching under Kurt’s tail, wet fingertips delving down the cleft of his ass and tracing the delicate skin of his pucker. Kurt’s asshole tightens in anticipation and so does his throat, snug around Cody’s cock until Cody cries out, “M-merry—oh holy Jack Frost—what a merry Christmas.”

A shiver goes through Kurt’s body, tightening then loosening him, lax and open to Cody’s cock and to his finger, pressing deliciously past Kurt’s first ring of muscle. Kurt whimpers from the pleasure of it, and the want—it’s not enough, can’t ever be enough, he needs more, more,  _more_. He thrusts his rump back onto Cody’s finger, back and forth, grunting wantonly from his red-tipped snout.

Kurt lets Cody’s cock slide out of his mouth. “Fuck me, Santa,” he mutters. “Need you to fill me with your North Pole.”

“Patience, Rudolph. Santa needs to make sure you’re ready for the long drive.” Cody presses a second finger against Kurt’s rim. Kurt’s ass only resists for a second before letting it in along with the first, and _oh_  he’s so full already, can’t imagine how he’ll be able to fit around Cody’s cock—but if this feels good, that’s going to be …

Kurt gasps, his cock twitching from anticipation. Cody’s cock in his ass is going to be better than any drunken vision of sugarplums ever could be. “More, Santa, more,” he whines, fucking himself back on Cody’s fingers until he can go no farther, until the lowest knuckles of Cody’s fingers press against Kurt’s rim.

Cody looks down at Kurt with an amused smile. “Who’s in charge here? Santa or the reindeer?” He twists his fingers and sparks go off around Kurt’s tailbone, colors explode behind his eyes.

“Y-you,” Kurt says. “You’re driving the sleigh. P-please, oh, oh  _Santa,_ ” as a third finger slips in and Kurt’s body takes it with a smooth, ecstatic stretch. “Oh Santa, please, drive me. Drive me hard.”

Cody steps to the side, opening Kurt’s view to the mirror. Kurt can’t help but look at himself, his pupils wide and his cheeks so flushed they rival the lipstick on his nose, and it's—god, it’s hot to see himself like this, on all fours and desperately fucking back onto Cody’s hand as Cody repositions himself behind Kurt.

Cody is staring at Kurt’s ass again, eyes going wide as he watches his own fingers moving in and out of Kurt’s body. “So gorgeous, Rudolph,” he murmurs, petting his free hand under Kurt’s floppy white tail. “Love watching you open up around me like a Christmas wreath.” Cody moves his fingers in deeper, twists and curls them in a way that makes Kurt feel like his insides are melting into a warm pool of pleasure.

He’s absolutely lost, in the most delicious way. Cody keeps pressing in and plying Kurt open, whispering sweet praises about Kurt’s gorgeous asshole and how it’s sweeter and tighter than five golden rings, and Kurt’s nerves keep firing in all directions, so many levels of pleasure coursing through his body that he’s not sure which feeling to chase. It’s like he’s flying, and squinting at himself in the mirror he can almost believe that he really is Rudolph, pulling himself and Santa toward the sky.

Cody gives a light tug on Kurt’s reins to bring him back to the moment; their eyes meet in the mirror. “You’ve been such a good boy, Rudolph. Do you think you’re ready for the rest of your present?” On the final word, Cody thrusts his three fingers as deep as they’ll go.

“Oh, yes, Santa. Please,  _please_  give it to me.”

The corner of Cody’s mouth turns up. “Are you positive?  A Yule log is a lot bigger than three peppermint sticks.”

Kurt nods vigorously, his bottom lip quivering with desire. “Oh yes, Santa. Yes. I need your Yule log in my hearth.”

Cody lets out a groan as he releases the reins and reaches for a condom from the bedside table. He tears the package open with his teeth, then rolls the condom onto his swollen cock using just one hand, the fingers of his other still buried in Kurt’s ass.

Kurt stares wide-eyed and without shame at Cody’s cock in the mirror. It seems to have gotten even bigger since it was in Kurt’s mouth, heavier and more turgid. Kurt wonders if he should be terrified—it’s a lot for his first time, even if he’s practiced with a dildo. But mostly he’s as giddy as a kid waking up to piles of candy on Christmas morning. He could gorge on sweets all day without a hint of regret.

Cody catches Kurt looking, but Kurt doesn’t turn away. “You like what you see?” Cody says.

Kurt nods. “Very much.”

“Me too,” Cody says, watching as he pulls his fingers out of Kurt’s ass and nudges the tip of his cock against the opening.

Kurt rears back against it. Cody’s head moves smoothly past the first ring of muscle, but the second one clenches down instinctively, refusing to give way. Kurt lets out a frustrated moan. “Need you,” he gasps, “Need you to fuck me, fill me up and—” The words melt into a string of garbled consonants as the muscle begins to relax.

“All in good time,” Cody says, stroking soothingly around Kurt’s tail. “Santa can’t deliver his presents all at once. Sometimes it takes all night.” He nudges his cock forward just a bit as he speaks, and Kurt’s ass muscles go haywire, spasming and relaxing almost simultaneously, setting his whole body into tremors of pleasure and need.

“Oh yes, like that, Santa,” Kurt groans. “Give it to me, I’m so close, make me come.”

Cody reaches his hand around Kurt’s waist and tugs lightly at his balls. “Not yet, Rudolph,” he whispers gently. “I want you to unwrap this present slowly.”

Kurt breathes deep and focuses on Cody’s warm presence behind him, the soft weight of his hand around the base of Kurt’s tail. His ass stops twitching and then goes slack, and the urge to come passes. “I’m ready to be a good boy, Santa.”

As soon as Kurt speaks the words, Cody sinks into him, slow but steady. It’s so much, the stretch and the fullness building like a slow fire from Kurt’s ass to his belly.

Cody grasps Kurt’s reins loosely in one hand, still stroking Kurt’s tail. “You ready to fly, Rudolph?”

Kurt means to answer  _yes, Santa, drive me hard and make me fly,_  but that’s the moment when Cody bottoms out, his balls pressing softly against Kurt’s ass, and the sensation sets off a level of carnal desire that Kurt has never known before that leaves him speechless, unable to make any sound other than a desperate, guttural groan. This isn’t sex to express love or commitment or bone-deep trust—it’s just sex, raw and pure, and though he feels more like an animal than he ever has in his life, there’s nothing debasing about it at all.

Rachel’s voice carries through Kurt’s fabric wall. “Oh my god, the noises they’re making are turning me on so much. Santana, do you think we could—” But then her voice lowers and Kurt can’t hear her anymore under Cody’s soft grunting or his own moans.

Cody uses his free hand to spread Kurt’s ass cheeks a little farther apart, then pushes himself impossibly deeper, tightening the reins to pull Kurt’s body closer to his.

“Oh god oh god oh god, yes,  _that,_  oh, thank you,” Kurt babbles, heedless of spying ears. “Thank you, Santa.  _Thank you.”_  It’s impossibly good, this feeling of being stretched so wide and penetrated so deeply. It’s vulnerability and power, vulgarity and sweetness all rolled into one.

“Thank  _you_ , Rudolph,” Cody says with a soft moan, breathing deeply as he starts to move his pelvis in slow, tight circles.  It’s a sensation unlike anything Kurt’s ever tried with his toys, strange and delightful, and Kurt surrenders himself over to it, riding Cody’s movements like a wave. He watches Cody’s face in the mirror, the way it goes lax with pleasure, his eyelids half-closed and drooping heavier with each sway of their hips. “You have no idea how good it feels to have my Yule log in your hearth. You’re so … _warm.”_

“I think it’s your Yule log that’s doing all the warming, Santa,” Kurt says, daring the slightest thrust back onto Cody’s cock. Kurt doesn’t want to be demanding, but he can’t help it if Cody’s cock makes him need to be fucked senselessly, for the smoldering fire inside him to burst into flame.

Cody gets the idea, loosening his grasp on Kurt’s reins as he slides back, pulling the reins tighter as he plunges back in. He starts slow and gentle, moving his cock back and forth in Kurt’s ass like a perfectly timed piston, methodical and smooth. The friction sets off sparks in Kurt’s pelvis and up his spine, and he starts to rear back, fucking himself onto Cody’s cock—but Cody presses a hand to Kurt’s hip and pushes him slightly forward until his cock is only about half-deep inside Kurt. “Wait, Rudolph. This is part of the present,” he says, and then he angles his hips and sways them just slightly, rubbing his cockhead over a small spot inside Kurt’s ass, and —

Oh.  _Oh._ The sparks spread farther out, into his scalp and fingers and down to his toes, and Kurt is  _alight_. He glances into the mirror, expecting to find that his red nose is actually aglow—and of course it’s not, but it feels like it. It feels like light is streaming out of Kurt’s body in every direction.

“Santa,” Kurt manages. “ _Santa.”_

“You like your present, Rudolph?”

Kurt nods wordlessly, and Cody smiles, his cheeks turning as rosy as St. Nick’s as he keeps working over the spot. Even though Cody’s not as deep inside Kurt as he was earlier, it feels like he is somehow deeper. Kurt can feel each stroke like it’s inside his cock—he knows that can’t be true, but it doesn’t change the indelible sensation of being fucked from the inside out. Kurt’s cock bounces and swells, and just as the sensation becomes almost too much, Cody diffuses it by fucking his cock all the way into Kurt’s ass and resuming the long, methodical strokes from earlier.

Cody’s body is starting to tremble slightly, the first hint that he might be starting to lose control, to give himself as completely over to pleasure as Kurt has already. “Such a good boy, Rudolph. Love the way you give me your ass.”

Kurt didn’t think it was possible to flush any brighter, but he does. “Love the way you give me your gigantic peppermint stick, Santa.”

Cody huffs out a half-laugh, half-moan that vibrates into his cock and up Kurt’s ass, Cody’s strokes inside Kurt slightly faster and more erratic with each breath. A wave of need slams over Kurt’s body. He fucks back onto Cody, his own cock growing heavier with each stroke, his insides quivering with want. _Fuck me, Santa, fuck me_ —he’s not sure if he’s saying it or just thinking it. He’s too distracted by the roar of pleasure coursing through his body to tell.

“So close, Rudolph. You have me so close,” Cody grunts, his whole body starting to shake.

“Yes, yes,” Kurt moans, his own orgasm building inside his ass and balls. “Come down my chimney.”

Cody yanks so hard on the reins that Kurt rears up on his hind legs. Cody reaches around him, dropping the reins and pulling Kurt’s back against his chest. He runs his fingers over the straps of Kurt’s leather harness and toward Kurt’s nipples, fucking long strokes into Kurt as he works the nipples into hard peaks, then slides one hand down to cover Kurt’s leaking cock. “You gonna come for me, Rudolph?” Cody moans, burying his face into the side of Kurt’s neck and sucking hard. Cody’s hat is still (miraculously) in place, and the tail of it swings over Kurt’s shoulder, tickling his collarbone.

“Yeah,” Kurt gasps. “But I—I want—” It’s hard to gather the words with all the sensations running through his body, the blood roaring to the surface of his neck and into his engorged cock and through his ears, but Kurt breathes deep and wills himself to put them together. “I want to watch you come first.  Santa needs to come down the chimney before I can open my present.”

“Oh, fuck, Kurt,” Cody grunts and starts pounding Kurt’s ass with hedonistic abandon. Kurt’s eyes half-close from the intensity and goodness of the sensations, but he watches what he can of them in the mirror: Cody’s hand splayed over his chest and his fist moving fast around his cock; Cody’s face tightening with pleasure, his cheek pressed against Kurt’s ear; the harness and antlers and silly Santa hat that enabled Kurt to give himself up to what he wanted.

Kurt is so turned on that he doesn’t hear himself when he first starts to shout—probably loud enough to wake the neighbors, and certainly loud enough that the girls start tittering from wherever they are on the other side of the curtain. But before he gets the chance to be embarrassed Cody moans, “Yes, yes, Kurt,” and starts fucking him even harder. “I love how you take my cock, so good, gonna come down your chimney, gonna—” and Kurt keeps shouting. Cody’s mouth falls open as he plunges his cock all the way into Kurt’s ass. It seems to swell even more as he starts to come, to stretch Kurt’s rim further, to fill Kurt past his belly. It occurs to Kurt suddenly that  _he_  did this to Cody—not Rudolph, but  _Kurt_ : Kurt’s smirk and Kurt’s playfulness and Kurt’s sweet, pliable ass.

“Oh yes Santa,” Kurt moans, thrusting himself down onto Cody as far as he can go. “Your North Pole is so big, yes, yes, fuck me with it, fill me up and—” Kurt’s orgasm slams into his body — not just his ass and his cock, but  _everywhere._ It’s in his eyeballs and toes, emanating to the ceiling. He shoots onto the bedspread, string after string of semen soaking the fabric.

Everything gets muddled then, tossed around in a jumble of heartbeats, kisses, sticky sweat and come. By the time Kurt’s head clears, he finds that they’ve collapsed together on the bedspread. Cody is half-covering Kurt’s body, one of his black boots hooked over Kurt’s thigh.

The curtain to Kurt’s room opens and Rachel ducks her head. Normally, Kurt would be appalled for her to see him like this, but right now he’s beyond caring.

“Sounded like you two were having fun,” she says in an eggnog-inspired singsong. “Do  _I_ get a present Santa? I’ve been a very good girl this year.”

Kurt turns to Cody. “She’s lying. She’s never a good girl.”

“I am, too! I talked you out of running away from your NYADA audition, didn’t I?”

Kurt lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose that’s true.” He turns to Cody. “She was very helpful with that.  And she helped me get the job at the department store—which sucked in one way. But it led to me getting my Christmas present from you, so really it was a good thing. So I suppose she  _does_  qualify for a present from Santa, if you’re up for it.”

Cody chuckles. “Maybe after I nap?”

Rachel claps her hands and bounces on her toes before bounding toward the bed and piling on top of them, wrinkling her nose. “It smells like eggnog in here,” she says.

“Eggnog, or ‘eggnog’?” It’s not Kurt who says that, though he thought it. It’s Santana, who’s standing at the doorway in her Mrs. Claus outfit. "Santa,” she says. “I haven’t been a good girl this year. But seeing as we’re married and all, I think it’s only fair that you include me in on the gift-giving.”

“Wait,” Cody says, craning his neck up from the pillow. “You want me to have sex with  _you_ , too? I thought you were gay.”

Santana rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not open to a little two-on-one. Especially if it’s the two of us Sexy Clauses on Rachel. What do you say?”

Rachel looks up in shock before burying her face into Kurt’s bare shoulder and letting out a peal of giggles. “Oh my god,” she says. “That would be the best Christmas present ever. I  _love_  being the center of attention.”

* * *

None of them hear the door open, but when they wake up the next morning, Cody’s gone.

“He must have gone up the chimney,” says Rachel.

“We don’t  _have_  a chimney,” Santana says. She knocks on the radiator. “But I didn’t have one growing up, either, and we still had Christmas. My mom said Santa could get in through the HVAC system. Or the plumbing.” She pauses, and a smile wide enough to show her canine teeth spreads across her face. “And he certainly was in both of your plumbing systems last night.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “You guys are talking like you seriously think he’s Santa.”

Rachel shrugs and smiles. “Well, he might be. I mean, look around here. There’s no sign of him except for the semen and vaginal secretions all over our respective beds. Santa comes and goes without a trace. But regular people—”

“I don’t get it. You’re Jewish and you’re arguing for the existence of Santa?” Kurt scratched his head.

“Santa’s pretty much a secular tradition,” Rachel said. “It’s not like I’m praying to the baby Jesus.”

“She’s right,” Santana nods. “He must have been Santa. A normal New Yorker would have stolen half our crap after we fell asleep. But it’s all here. Even your first-edition Judy Garland albums. And I  _know_ those are worth money—though God knows why.”

Kurt gives up on arguing with them. In the end, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that he’s gotten exactly the Christmas present he needed.


End file.
